


Full Moon

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:44:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mike doesn’t understand, he simply turns his back and runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Moon

You’re touring when he runs away. Literally running, feet pounding the snow beneath him as he tears away from the bus and along a lonely London street. You stand on the steps and watch him go and remember how he always said how much he hated England, complained bitterly about their driving and their TV sitcoms that were way too dramatic. As if the Spanish soap operas he favoured were any better. You let him go knowing that if he’d wanted you to follow, he’d have looked back so you could see the tears of confusion and pain in his eyes.

Mike does this a lot. He runs away. When he doesn’t understand, he simply turns his back and runs. After the show tonight, you handed your ear piece and microphone over to a nameless tech guy and followed Mike to the bus. He turned as you pushed the door open, his eyes glistening with tears and you asked “What’s wrong?”

You only stepped forward and kissed him because the words were catching in his throat. You kissed him to make him feel better, to let him know he’s needed, loved. Nobody knows why he cries or why he hurts, but you guess it has something to do with Anna. Anna; his picture perfect wife who walked out of his life silently. Anna; who walked away for no reason and left the wreck that is Mike, now, behind. You kissed him and his eyes widened, his jaw dropping as he stared at you for a frozen second. Then he ran.

Hours later and everyone is worrying, save for you. You know he’ll be fine somewhere in the frozen city of London. He’s always safe, always finds a place where he can think and cry over the loss of someone who never loved him in the first place. But now Brad is saying “Go after him, Chester. He needs you.”

Before he left the snow had just stopped falling, so you follow his lonely foot prints to a park. A park covered in snow the way you remember Mike’s wedding cake with all its beautiful white frosting and decorations. All around you there’s crushed snow and chilled wind and the park with its trees, once beautiful and romantic now frozen. Dead.

You watch the dark figure standing in between the skeletons of the trees, watching the horizon in anticipation. From here you can see his breath, puffed out in white clouds from dark lips that you know would be icy to the touch.

Snow beneath your sopping wet trainers crunches and shifts as you tread carefully ahead of you, eyes fixed on the winter blurred horizon. You rest a gloved hand on the figure’s shoulder, can feel the warmth radiating through several layers of clothing.

His soft voice whispers “I knew you’d find me.”

“Yes,” you reply and watch the snow turn crimson beneath you as drop by warm drop fall from the cold hands you long to hold. “You’re bleeding,” you murmur, staring at the snow.

“Yes,” Is the only reply, as you both stare ahead at the stars.


End file.
